


Labiatae Amorous

by She5los



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (Mind the gap!), Aphrodisiacs, Extremely soft BDSM, F/M, Hubert's gap moe, Just a whole nice variety of vanilla sex acts, Married Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She5los/pseuds/She5los
Summary: When an experiment with an aphrodisiac goes wrong, Bernadetta decides to find something a little more fun.Started as a 5+1, but ended up as a 2+1.  Two times Bernie and Hubert didn't enjoy playing with aphrodisiacs, and the first (but definitely not the last) time they got it right.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Labiatae Amorous

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, a family is you, your husband, your greenhouse of carnivorous plants, and his greenhouse of poisonous plants.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this! And also a lot of difficulty, because as it turns out, I care about romance a lot more than porn, and it's very important to me to show how much they care about each other, even more than showing how turned on they are. But I think it's very sweet, and it ended up as a very pleasant read. :)

"Could you show me your poisons?" Bernadetta asked one day over tea and coffee. "I've always been curious about them, and since we're married now, and I'm in the house with them…"

"Certainly," Hubert agreed. If he was being frank, Bernadetta was one of a small handful of people he would actually trust with them. "Just a quick check: what color were you wearing the first time we met in the Goddess Tower?"

She smiled (flames, she was cute) like it was some kind of joke and said, "Hubert, we never met in the-- ohhh, unless you mean… are you counting the…? I was wearing black. Black with gold trim. I was hiding out, because the Monastery was so busy the day before classes started, and you'd gotten lost because you were bad with maps. We recognized each other from when we'd introduced ourselves to our houses, and you offered to walk me back to my room. You kept trying to take wrong turns."

"I did," Hubert agreed. "You were too nervous to actually tell me so, but you made that little whimpering noise, like you were trying to hold your tongue but struggling with it, and that told me when I'd made a wrong decision." She had been truly pitiable back then. He'd had no way to know that her mother had had her tied up and thrown in a wagon and carted off to school, but when he asked how long she'd been sitting there, she said,  _ Well, the bell's rung twice, _ and when he asked how long she planned to stay, she said,  _ I'm just waiting for the hallway to clear out a little, _ so of course he'd offered to walk her back. She would have sat there for hours, waiting for the bell to strike six and announce dinner, when it was only a quarter past two.

"I'll be so glad when we've finished our war against the Slitherers," Bernie told him. "But I guess it was nice to remember how kind you were, even back when we didn't know each other at all."

Hubert smiled. He couldn't say he had seen her as anything other than a schoolmate back then, but he still cherished his memories with her.

.-._.-._.-._

"Today is our six-month anniversary," Bernie said as she poured their tea and coffee.

"They count it by half-years now?" Hubert asked.

"Well, not really. Not after the first year. But I still thought we might do something romantic." She had a sip of tea.

Hubert smiled and had a sip of coffee. Perfect, as always. She was perfect. (And she was his wife!) "Did you have anything particular in mind?" he asked, knowing she did.

"I thought it might be nice to take the afternoon off," she told him. "Just go to our bedroom and stay in for a while. In a romantic way, you know?"

"I hear you," Hubert assured her. "That could be nice. I don't think the Empire will fall if I take a Friday afternoon to myself."

She giggled and had another sip of tea, then picked up a jam-and-shortbread sandwich cookie. "I'll be able to take a little more initiative this time, though," she told him. "Because, before I came to tea, I took a little of your aphrodisiac potion."

Hubert jolted so badly, he spilled coffee on his hand. "You what." he said, unable to put any inflection into his words from the shock. "How long ago? How much?" Was she blushing? Was it her usual blush, or fever from the poison?

"Only a little," she said. "A few drops, that's all, like it said on the bottle. Before I came out to tea."

Hubert stood up. He'd made himself ill all night from the dosage he'd written on that bottle, back when he'd thought it sounded like a fun idea, and Bernie was half his size. "I'll tell the cook we might need ice later," he offered. He started putting sandwiches and things on a plate so they wouldn't be hungry; the only poisons Hubert had that caused nausea were the ones that went into the bloodstream. "Go to bed. If you feel weak on the way, sit down, even if you're in the middle of a hallway." He finally remembered to wipe the coffee off his hands. "I'll be up before long. Don't worry; it won't kill you. But it can give you a nasty fever, so I'll be there to watch over you."

"Hubert, this isn't an emergency," Bernie protested. "It isn't a  _ poison _ poison; it's an aphrodisiac! Let's have fun!"

"It isn't a  _ good _ aphrodisiac," he told her. "It is, in fact, a deeply mediocre aphrodisiac. It certainly isn't meant to be used on someone you like."

Bernadetta's smile turned nervous and unsteady. "What, um. What kind of aphrodisiac… is for someone you like?" she asked.

"I don't know," Hubert snapped. This was awful; he didn't ever want to snap at her. "Oysters, maybe. Pine nuts. Rich fish. Not a slow-acting stimulant mixed with a muscle relaxant, used to trick people into thinking they're in love with you!"

"Oh." 'Oh' was right; what had she been thinking? "But you did… You did say the words to me, 'this one is an aphrodisiac.' You did label it with a heart."

"Bernie, you're safe," Hubert promised her. Was she breathing quickly from the drug, or because she was scared? "I promise you, you're safe. There's nothing in the amount you took that will hurt you if we just take a nice, easy evening in. Come with me, sweet."

He offered his arm and she stood and then promptly sat down again. Her whole face was flushed. "Bernie's… not feeling so great," she admitted.

"That's alright," Hubert told her. He tried to make his voice soothing, and he thought maybe it even worked, this time. He knelt down next to her. "I'm going to pick you up, Bernie. I'm going to take you to bed. Is that alright?"

She nodded, but her quick breathing came with quiet whimpering noises. As Hubert gathered her into his arms, praying he could make it to their room with her, he said, "You're safe, Bernie. You're soooo safe. I got worried because I always worry, and because you're so precious to me, but you're going to be just fine."

"But I r-ruined our half-anniversary," she whispered into his ear.

"It's only a half-anniversary," he said. "We'll do something nice for the full one."

"I wanted to do something nice  _ today," _ she complained. "Put me down. Just leave me here. I'm so useless, can't even think of a nice surprise for my own husband--"

"You thought of a very nice surprise, Bernie," Hubert told her, still carrying her. "It just didn't go to plan." He had to admit, she was heavier than anything he'd carried in a very long time -- including her, scrawny and fearful, when she'd fainted at the sight of him in their school days. But he was glad of that, glad she'd grown and flourished without her terrible father hanging over her shoulder. He kissed her cheek and started up the stairs.

"Why d'you call it an aphrodisiac?" Bernie pouted. "That isn't what an aphrodisiac  _ is. _ I wanted to give you a really nice evening, where you didn't need to spend the whole time… checking up on me. Double-checking that I want you. You know I always want you, right? I just… get really tired, or overwhelmed, and it's never your fault when I need time alone…"

"Bernie, I know," Hubert told her, though he wasn't sure how reassuring he sounded as he huffed and puffed his way up the stairs. What kind of asshole decided to give  _ any _ house two floors? It was certainly inconvenient, and Bernadetta would be incapacitated far too long to just lay her on a couch. "It's not-- you."

"I'm sorry," she said, her soft voice sounding so sweet right by his ear. "Making you carry me like this… I know I've gotten heavy. When we were in school… I mean, at least I didn't ask you then. You weren't obligated, and I was thinner. I got so chunky in the war…"

"Bernie, stop," Hubert pleaded. They'd talked about this. He had no expectation for her to stay a willowy, waifish little thing, and in fact, he found her powerful arms and shoulders incredibly sexy. Just because she didn't have the figure her father said was desirable, didn't mean she wasn't  _ actually _ desirable. "He-- stunted your-- growth and then-- called it-- attractive." Stones, okay, that was the stairs. Thank goodness. Hubert paused to catch his breath. "I think you're lovely." He struggled to keep his weight high enough to keep Linhardt from glaring at him every time he visited them, so he was very happy for his wife to be sturdy and healthy.

"Well, yes… But it sure makes it harder for you right now."

"And easier-- every other day," Hubert reminded her. They were nearly to their bedroom. "My gorgeous-- strong wife." She was breathing nearly as hard as he was, which wasn't a very good sign, but she would be able to lie still soon, and he'd be able to get her whatever she needed.

They made it to their bedroom with no more complaints from Bernie, and Hubert laid her on the bed, not bothering to put the covers over her because it was as likely as anything that her body would overheat. She was still very flushed, so he went to the bathroom to fetch her some water.

"Here, sweet," he said, and helped her hold the glass. "Just some water. Nothing to do but wait and keep you comfortable." He stroked her bangs out of her face. She was burning up. He should get a washcloth, maybe draw her a cool bath if it got too bad--

"If I'm not comfortable, it's fine," Bernie moped. "I deserve it."

"You tried to do a very sweet thing," Hubert corrected her, and kissed that flushed forehead. "You know I like to feel useful; let me take care of you."

Bernadetta sighed. At last, she said, "If you really insist… It isn't sexy, like I wanted, but I do feel too hot in these clothes."

"Your wish is my command, darling," Hubert told her, and smiled at her. He took the water glass when she was done and moved her arm so he could undo the buttons at her side.

.-._.-._.-._

On an unassuming Wednesday, Bernadetta rocketed down the stairs when a delivery came, yelling, "It's here! It's here it's here it's here!!! Yes, thank you Miss Elaine, it's my delivery, I know what to do with it!" Hubert had been sitting in his office, leaving the door open to counter the early summer heat, but his wife's excitement certainly caught his attention.

"Something from Brigid?" he asked, joining her in the front hall. Probably one of her carnivorous plants, but she had never gotten quite  _ that _ excited about one before. Perhaps this one was endangered.

"Almyra," she said. True to form, the thing looked like a mountain shrub, short and scrubby, with petite pink flowers with prominent yellow stamens. "Ohhhh, this is so excitingggg!" She signed for the package and took the bill the delivery woman left, and turned to Hubert when the door was shut. "I've been waiting for them to source one for two months!" she told Hubert as he leaned down to see if it had any scent. Not much, but what it had was sweet and nice, if a little cloying. "It's-- uh--”

"Oh, did I get some pollen on me?" Hubert asked as she paused. He rubbed his nose; he knew how silly Bernadetta looked when she'd been sticking her face in those sweet-smelling roses Lorenz sent for their wedding.

"Well, no, but." Bernie paused, like she was considering her words carefully. "Hubert, you… Do you think it might be a good day to take the afternoon off?"

He frowned. "I was sort of in the middle of something," he told her. "Why?" She would have told him if she'd been expecting a poisonous plant, right? Hubert always did, for safety reasons, and he'd assumed Bernadetta would follow similar safe practices.

"Well, the plant is-- don't give me that look; it won't kill you or anything -- the plant is called Labiatae Amorous, and instead of making menthol or other seasonings like all the other mint plants, it, um… Well, it… It makes you feel…"

"Amorous," Hubert finished for her. He was already starting to feel the effects; he felt warm, like he did after his first cup of coffee.

"Yes."

"I see." With that knowledge, it made sense; it had been about two months since the unfortunate aphrodisiac incident. "And the pollen also…"

"Yes."

Well, then.

"I suppose I ought to take the afternoon off," Hubert agreed. "I'll finish up in my study and meet you upstairs, if you can spare the time."

"I'll drop this off in the poison greenhouse," Bernie promised. "Then no one else will try to smell it." She frowned at the plant and Hubert heard her scold it for causing trouble as she walked away.

What had he even been writing about? It seemed trivial when he was under the influence of an (apparently very potent and fast-acting) intoxicant that made him want to have sex with his wife. Well. That made him want to have sex generally, surely; the plant couldn't tell that he mas married. But Bernadetta was in his house, and beautiful, and beyond willing. And she had that  _ thing _ she did with her fingertips--

\--Right. Barley yields in Faerghus. He finished his letter as quickly as he could, addressed it to Ferdinand, and hoped his handwriting didn't look too unwieldly because he couldn't bring himself to care. He stamped it with his seal and left it in the front hall to be sent out as he made his way upstairs. His clothes had never felt so hot and scratchy; he longed for the light, soft comfort of his bedsheets. But he had to admit: whatever was in that pollen, that made him feel that way, it was worlds better than his own crude concoction. He still felt feverish and stimulated, but instead of muscle weakness, he was filled with longing, and the particular stimulation he felt was much more directed than the one he'd brewed up.

No matter how pleasurable, an aphrodisiac was still a drug, and a drug that could overheat you, at that. He stopped in the bathroom against the protest of his sensitive skin and quickly hardening cock to grab a glass of water, dampen a handkerchief to wipe the first of the sweat from his face and neck, and grab a washcloth for later. Back in the bedroom, as he was removing his clothes, Bernie breezed in with a kiss on the head for him and rummaged in the nightstand for the oil they kept there. "How are you doing?" she asked, like she couldn't see how flushed and wanting he was.

"I feel very warm and sensitive," he told her. "And I want you very badly."

"I can fix one of those things," she offered, and reached over to her side to begin unbuttoning her dress. Hubert watched, but couldn't help because he was still removing his own clothes.

Very soon, Bernadetta stood in just her little shorts, her round breasts exposed just for him. Hubert's hands had gone clumsy, and he watched the way Bernadetta's breasts moved as she came forward to help him. "Oh, it's made you just hopeless, hasn't it?" she asked, fussing over him much more cutely than he was able to fuss over her. "What am I going to do with you, Hubert? Accidentally sniffing the sex pollen…"

"Have sex with me, hopefully," he suggested. Not his most subtle come-on ever.

"Well, yes," Bernie admitted. "And I'm looking forward to that. But I was just thinking… You poor little thing, so helpless, caught in the throes of an aphrodisiac you never meant to take…"

Ah, so it was a game now. He could play along.

"I will certainly admit I'm a very pitiful, helpless man right now," Hubert teased. "But you'll never get me to admit to being small."

Bernie giggled. "I'm glad you're still you," she told him gently, and he stood so she could pull his pants off him. It was such a relief to only have his socks and his smalls on. "I was worried… I mean, in stories, it overtakes you. You can't think of anything else. I'm glad you still have your own personality." She leaned forward and kissed him, the hesitance she'd shown before their marriage completely erased. She kissed him and it felt like he could breathe again.

"It would take a lot more than lusting for you to overcome me," Hubert told her. "After all, what do you think I think about all day, with such a beautiful wife?" He resumed kissing her, his hands on the cool skin of her back.  _ (Was _ it cool? Was he just overheated? Did it matter?) His legs were open around her and she shoved forward to push him onto the bed. He moaned into her mouth at the weight of her on his cock.

It was a rushed, frantic thing, having sex like that, barely satisfying to Bernadetta without a lot of hand and tongue work and not terribly fun for Hubert, either, with his body that wasn't built for such a short refractory period. It felt like hours before they were done, and he worried that Bernadetta was getting annoyed with him in the meantime, but she kept soothing him and kissing him and, even when they switched between fucking and touching so many times, she never left him alone or told him to handle his ridiculously needy body himself. She reminded him to take breaks to drink water and kissed him everywhere and, even though he knew it was sensitivity from the pollen, Hubert felt very loved and cared for with his beautiful, sexy wife taking care of him. Though, if he was being honest, he wasn't sure he was really playing at helplessness when he felt so tired and energetic at the same time. He didn't know what else to do with himself except stay in bed with Bernadetta.

By the time Hubert's fever broke, they'd used a quarter of a bottle of oil that usually lasted them a month or more, Hubert's tongue was sore, and his cock felt… bad. Sore? Tired? He didn't have enough of his mind free to come up with adjectives. He hadn't actually ejaculated in over an hour, which he imagined was the sexual equivalent of dry-heaving. He felt spent, even in the non-sexual meaning of the phrase. Bernadetta had long since drawn the curtains to coddle his sensitive eyes, and he snuggled against her in the dark, seeking comfort instead of release.

"I think it's over," he told her, his forehead tucked against her sternum. "Is this how you felt when my poison wore off?"

"I didn't have such an eventful time under the influence," she reminded him. "It looks like this one does what it promises, but we'll need to control the dosage. That was so much for you, Hubert…"

"I did bury my face in the damn things," Hubert pointed out. "Mmngh. I want to sleep…" It was normal to sleep after sex. It was natural and good. And here he'd had at least a dozen orgasms, all in a row, and he still felt too frenetic to even take a light nap before dinner.

"Dinner first," Bernie said, and kissed the top of his head. "That looked so exhausting; I bet you'll sleep soundly tonight."

"With a good dosage, it might be fun," Hubert mumbled. He cuddled his cheek against her astoundingly soft breast. Flames, he loved being married. "It's the real thing, just… powerful."

Bernie's hand rubbed gentle, reassuring patterns over his back. "Would it have been fun if it was both of us?" she asked. "Or still too much?"

"Still too much," Hubert confirmed. "It was like an obligation, not an encouragement. And I got so sweaty and disgusting…"

"Huberttt, you're supposed to get sweaty and disgusting," Bernie whined. "That's just how it is! Come on, you took care of me all last time, so let me show you how precious you are by taking care of you. First stop: a nice bath. Do you want it cool or hot?"

"I want you to hold me," Hubert pouted. He would have felt that such manipulation was pathetic if he wasn't so completely exhausted. "Just because it's better doesn't mean it's gone, and you smell incredible like this. You  _ taste _ incredible like this. Every part of you." His hand on her back slipped down to her ass and he pulled her hips toward him, kneaded that supple muscle, and she responded by lifting her leg up across his hip.

She said some more things, teasing him, threatening to do things that would cause her to get up, but she always took pity on him and stayed. Or, he assumed she took pity, because there was no way he was  _ actually _ convincing her that staying with him would be fun. He was sure he smelled stale and unappealing, but Bernadetta insisted he either eat or rest, all the while repeating that he should allow her to take care of him. It hardly seemed fair, when she had already taken such excellent care of him when he'd been afflicted by the pollen, but he had never found a limit to how much he would do for her, so he tried to imagine that she felt the same and just wanted to ensure his comfort and safety after such a miserable ordeal.

He would just have to thank her by pampering her tomorrow. She brought him dinner and chatted with him while they ate, ran him a bath and helped him wash up since he still felt a little weak, and he ran his mouth about what a nice, relaxing time he would give her tomorrow up until he finally fell asleep.

.-._.-._.-._

For their anniversary, they had tea in the garden: not outside the bounds of their property, so they were unlikely to see anyone they didn't know, but still bright and springy and fresh, with birds singing and flowers blooming.

Hubert shyly gifted her a set of needles that he'd spelled not to break, as if it wasn't enough for him to make her something truly useful with his own hands. Bernadetta had something a little more exciting to give him.

"You remember the flowers I bought?" she asked as she put a little candy dish on the table with a ribbon tied around the knob on top. "The Labiatae Amorous? And you said to be careful about the dosage?" She opened the dish, revealing the little pastilles she'd made: borrowing the large mortar and pestle from the kitchen, she'd ground together sugar and flower stamens and a bit of starch until the sugar was fairly fine, then pulled the very beat up, no longer yellow stamens out of the mix. She grated part of a beet and added the juice a couple drops at a time until the whole thing turned into a paste, and then rolled it into a log, cut it in pieces, shaped them, and dried the pink hearts out to serve up, here and now, in a sweet glass candy dish for her anniversary. "I thought we might have the kind of fun I meant to give you on our half-anniversary."

"The pollen is in there?" Hubert confirmed, and sipped his coffee.

"Yes, and I researched the dosage to be sure it isn't too much," Bernie told him.

"We did plan a night in," Hubert agreed. "Should both of us take it, or only one?"

"I thought just me," Bernie admitted. "At least until we know they work properly. Also because it was so hard on you before…"

"Sweet?" Hubert said, and Goddess, did she love how casually he called her by pet names. He covered her hand with his. "Six months ago, you said… Well, I just don't want you to think that you don't satisfy me as you are. I love bedding you because I love  _ you, _ not the other way around."

"Oh, I know," she told him. "I'd just been kind of stressed, with the War in the Dark and everyone expecting me to… Well, you know. To act like a new bride. At parties and things. So the things my father used to say were out in full force, even though I know better. But you, um. You really like to be needed, don't you? And this will make me need you. Desperately."

She saw Hubert choke on nothing. Saw him swallow deliberately and sneak a cautious glance at the little pastilles Bernie had made. Saw his pale cheeks start to redden. She smiled placidly and waited for his response.

"Take it… Take it at the end of tea, though, would you?" Hubert asked. "It's such a beautiful day, and I'm starving."

Bernie smiled. "I learned my lesson last time," she assured him. "I specifically remember missing out on smoked salmon sandwiches and apple turnovers; I won't make  _ that _ mistake again."

Hubert smiled. She was so proud of her ability to tell jokes gentle enough that he enjoyed them. "And that wasn't even our anniversary tea," he reminded her. "We have all sorts of delicious things set out today." He refreshed the tea in her cup and the coffee in his.

It was certainly true that the tea service, with sweets and meat buns from their favorite bakery and both of their favorite Spring foods, was delicious. And, more importantly, the company was incomparable; Bernie felt like she could spend a month with Hubert and never need to be alone. They always had more to talk about. Bernie knew that Hubert had terrified her once, and that he was able to put on the 'I'm so scary' act whenever he wanted, but even at his most fearsome, he didn't scare her anymore. How could he, when he was so soft-spoken and gentle most of the time, and when he still wore her embroidered flower on his lapel "for luck" even though she'd long since told him it was just a ruse to see if he'd wear a token of hers?

"Should I take one of my little candies?" she asked when she was starting to get sick of sweets and even Hubert was looking dubiously at his scone.

The reaction was immediate: he jerked and stared, then nodded and said, "yes" in a very soft voice, then smiled almost nervously. "Yes, I think you should, my sweet. A lovely ending to a lovely afternoon."

She took the lid off the candy dish and put a candy in her mouth. It mostly tasted like sugar and starch, but the heady scent of the flowers was in there, too.

"Have you experimented with the dosage?" Hubert asked. He lowered his voice to add, "Were you all desperate and alone on nights when I wasn't here to help you?"

"I looked it up in a book," Bernie told him. "They said, if it doesn't work in half an hour, take another. So I think we just go upstairs and get started, and take it nice and slow, and I can tell you when it's working."

Hubert agreed and they went upstairs. Her life, here and now, was so different from any time before; she felt confident in her own house. She felt in control. Without any doubt, she belonged there. No more holing away in her room during meal times or hiding in stairwells and empty classrooms when the hallways were full; this was  _ her _ house and she had every right to be here, stumbling over the step up to the door, mounting the stairs with a spring in her step, pulling Hubert along as he pretended he was normally slow and wasn't stalled by imagining everything he wanted to do to her. Flopping on the bed and complaining that there was just no way for her to lift a finger to remove her clothes, since she was seized by the aphradisiac's spell, shrieking in delight instead of terror when Hubert leapt onto her with his hands tensed into claws, ready to tickle her, her spine arching so hard, her body knocked his hands away. There was none of that old fear as her husband stopped and waited for her to wrap all her limbs around him, her blood pumping from the suddenness of it all. She kissed Hubert hard and long, rolling easily so that she rested under him, and when she finally broke the kiss off and looked up at him, they were both smiling.

"Does this mean it's working?" Hubert asked, his voice low and sweet.

"It has been two minutes," Bernie reminded him. "It must just be that I love you so much."

"My sweet little Bernie-berry," Hubert teased. He reached to her side to begin unbuttoning her dress. "Sweetest in the world. Going to all this trouble just for me. It certainly makes a man feel appreciated." He kissed her again, only a couple of her buttons undone.

"Mmh. A little repayment, then, for all the appreciation you give me." She slid her knee up between his legs. Maybe the pollen  _ was _ working. Or maybe she just loved her husband a lot, something she never expected to do. "How will you feel when I'm insatiable?" She was already wet, her clit feeling notably understimulated. Even Hubert was flushed with what she used to think was embarrassment, but now didn't know the name of. He always blushed when she did nice things for him. It was one adorable part of her surprisingly adorable husband.

"I will feel… I will feel that there is nothing I would not do for my beautiful, insatiable wife," he told her. "You are certain you feel comfortable? Safe, I mean?"

"The dosage is low," she assured him. "But who knows? Maybe I will be very affected. Maybe I will keep you up half the night with wanting."

"If it tires you, I will have to be  _ very _ attentive to you afterward," Hubert warned. He reached down to grab her cunt, gentle and exploratory, and he raised his eyebrows when he felt, even through the fabric of her shorts, how slick she was. "I will have to take extra care to rub your overworked muscles, to kiss you gently and affectionately so you do not feel you are only loved during intimacy, to fetch you food and water if you need them."

She could hear, from the wistfulness in his voice, that he was constructing his own fantasy: a time when she wanted him for sex, needed him as the nearest willing warm body, and a time shortly after where she needed him for  _ him, _ for the kindnesses he would do for her and the gentle reassurance he would give her.

To push back a little -- because, of all their friends, she was the only one gentle enough to push back without getting his hackles up -- she said, "Maybe you will be the tired one. Oh, maybe we will both be tired, and we will lounge here in each other's arms. Wouldn't  _ that _ be nice?" Her body was warm and pliable. Her crotch was wet, wet as when she woke with blood between her legs, but so much more agreeable. "But, for now, it's kicking in, I think. I'm so wet for you, Hubert." He could probably go into her dry and she'd be fine. He never would, was much too kind and cautious, but he probably could.

His hands slid under her waistband and cupped each side of her ass. It had delighted and scandalized her, early in their marriage (and, in all honesty, late in their courtship, too) when Hubert had used vulgar language, but she'd learned to like it: the indulgent honesty of using sexual words during sexual acts. Hubert squeezed her ass and complimented the sturdy bulk of her thighs as he removed her shorts and underwear together. Then he kissed her and asked if he should start with his tongue.

Hubert's head between her legs was warm, his hair soft, and she would swear she could still feel the places he'd left gentle kisses along her thighs, marked in little blazes of ticklish heat. He licked deeper into the canyon between her clit and her lip, and she moaned and pressed her heel into the small of his back. She tried to draw cute, swirling designs on his back and ass with her toes or the balls of her feet, but she was too overwhelmed to do much more than stay as still as she could and brace herself, and bury the fingers of her right hand in his warm hair while squeezing the edge of the mattress with her left, just to ground herself. She hadn't been this loud since they were very newly married, feeling her body light up electrically when it was touched in ways it hadn't been before, when she'd learned (to her delight) that there was nothing painful or unpleasant about physical intimacy as long as you wanted your partner to be there. She came first on Hubert's tongue, still unpenetrated, squeezing his hair hard enough to make herself feel guilty even though Hubert  _ liked _ when she pulled his hair hard. Her legs flailed and landed to Hubert's sides. It was more powerful than she'd expected, and it took several deep breaths to come back to her normal, now slightly fast, breathing.

Hubert suggested a different activity for each orgasm, because he was a scientist and liked to experiment, and probably also because he was too proud to ever admit that his tongue was tired. "And you need to come soon if you want to do it two or three times, right?" Bernie confirmed. He couldn't restart immediately (except for that one time) or chain them off each other. His had a cooldown period, except for the time he'd sniffed the pollen, and that had looked painful and made him achey all the next day. But Bernie smiled and said, "Let me return the favor," and started pulling Hubert up to be level with her. There was no spell on him now. He was just a man who had somehow fallen in love with her.

No. She was doing better than that. She was  _ being _ better than that. He had fallen in love with her because they liked each other's strengths and didn't mind each other's flaws. She sometimes even thought that Hubert liked her insecurities, not for what they were, but because they gave him an excuse to profess his love again and again, made even that act feel helpful and tender. And, truth be told, in return Bernie sort of liked how clutchy Hubert got when he was stressed; it felt very powerful to be able to soothe that out of him with a cup of cinnamon tea and a shoulder rub and some soft words and softer kisses. It was probably the same as the satisfaction Hubert felt when he coaxed her out of bed on difficult mornings or helped her through her nervous episodes. She still struggled to believe, sometimes, that Hubert wouldn't want or expect her to be the perfect, obedient, capable wife her father had tried to make her, but when she'd confessed that much to him, he'd acted very surprised that she thought she wasn’t any of those things.

“You smelled amazingly good to me when I was under the influence,” Hubert reminded her as he made his way up her torso, kissing tenderly all over her flushed, sensitive skin. “Do I smell different to you?”

“Not different,” Bernie said. “But I feel a different way about it.” He did smell very real, very there, and it kept her present in her body in a way she sometimes wasn’t. “Like… Like eating something you haven’t had since you were young. You smell the same, but I like it even more than usual.” After kissing her body so many times, and taking his time, Hubert only tasted a little bit of her when they kissed. That was fine; she smelled of sweat, of her body when she was aroused, but it was Hubert who smelled like she needed him, like she couldn’t be without him, like if she didn’t get closer and closer and closer to him, she’d die.

She rutted against him as they kissed, her greedy body demanding more, but he was only half hard against her leg. She offered again, more explicitly, to suck him off, and she could swear she heard his brain shudder and stop before he came back to himself and said, "Yes. Yes, please." He kissed her lips again, then her cheek as she pulled away from him.

It wasn't so generous of her, not when it put her nose right near the center of the smells of sweat and  _ something else _ that made her clit throb. She nuzzled his dick, starting to finger herself. Hubert's body was responsive; it just hadn't been attended to yet. She licked a stripe up the side of it and it came very close to standing to attention. And the  _ smell! _ She had always thought the smells and tastes of sex were alright, not terribly objectionable but not that desirable, either, but now the taste of Hubert's dick was intoxicating. She put her mouth over it and moaned, and Hubert stroked a gentle hand over her hair as she felt a shudder run through his body.

It was different from usual. She had always been less enthusiastic than Hubert about this because she'd prefer to kiss his mouth or the great expanses of skin on his body that didn't smell like crotch sweat. Just like she'd told him, the smell of him wasn't any different than usual, but the promise of sex, of his body locked against hers, of his cock entering her at some point, made it intoxicating.

Hubert enjoyed it, or at least, the noises he made said that he did. He could barely speak, poor thing, just one or two words strung together, repeated urgently as Bernie took things slow and fingered herself. She came before him -- a record, surely -- and pulled her mouth off of him to look up, past his flat torso, to him. "I could finish you like this," she told him, certain she looked as messy and dazed as he had when he'd looked up at her earlier. "Or I could ride you."

Hubert made a noise like a rusty gate hinge and then, hoarsely, said, "Yes, yes I would like that-- very much, I would like it very much." Bernadetta grinned and licked her lips, enjoying his eyes and attention on her. Wiping her fingers on her thigh, she shifted her weight back, kneeling between Hubert's legs, and rubbed up and down his thighs before making her way forward and carefully lowering herself onto him. He didn't say any words the whole time, just made various incoherent noises that were only tangentially related to normal human speech.

She shifted a little, and Hubert made a noise like "Yu-aaaouhh," and she smiled. Putting a hand on his chest, she said, "Tell me you want it, Hubert. Tell me you need it." It wouldn't do to burn him out so early in the day. Bernadetta expected to be like this for over an hour.

"Flames, I want it!" Hubert said, now that he knew she wanted him coherent. "I want you so badly, Bernie! Ride me, ride me now!"

Bernie grinned. All Hubert's famous composure, his threatening demeanor, his elegant wording, went straight out the window as soon as his wife took a little initiative. She settled her knees, which pulled another very amusing sound from Hubert, then rocked forward and back rhythmically, which made Hubert sigh and moan in a much more regular way.

Bernie moaned much louder than she'd meant to. She'd never been sensitive inside, but now she was sensitive everywhere. Hubert's powerful hands grasped her hips and she reached out, in return, to hold onto his arms. She heard herself say something like, "Yes, just like that, just like that!" even though she was on top.

It was inevitable for Hubert to come before her; it would be impossible for her to come twice before any man could come once, especially one who was so enthusiastic, unless she chained them together, and she hadn't yet figured out a reliable way to do that. He made a strangled sort of yell, and then let out a heavy, shuddering breath, and she felt his spend, a slow warming and slight fullness inside her, and she leaned down until she was lying on him. "Was that nice for you?" she asked, not moving her hand from her own clit but using the other to caress his shoulder as she curled up on top of him. "Was that a good start to the afternoon?"

One of his hands drew gentle swirling patterns on her shoulder as if she didn't want him rough and urgent right now. She could hear his relaxed smile as he said, "Yes, completely perfect. You always do just the right thing, Bernie…"

"Don't fall asleep," Bernie nearly snapped, rushing to make sure he stayed awake. How could he even think about sleeping when she  _ wanted _ him? "Do not fall asleep during your anniversary present, or so help me, I won't let you name our first child after Edelgard."

"I haven't even mentioned that to anyone," Hubert told her, sounding at least a little bit horrified. Well, at least he was paying attention.

"Is it such a hard guess?" Bernie asked. Hubert could figure out that little mystery by himself.

"Hm… Get off me?" he asked, so Bernie snuggled a little higher on his shoulder so he wasn't in her anymore. His hand on her shoulders tightened a little and he switched their positions. "What next, then?" he asked, still looking a little tired. "Your wish is my command. Shall I pay special attention to your torso?" One of his hands flicked her nipple as he said it. As his hand wandered down over her stomach, he asked, "Shall I finger you, as you have been so desperately doing for yourself? Shall I just kiss you, long and hard, and let you figure out the rest? We have so many options, sweet."

"Watch," Bernie commanded. "I challenge you to just-- watch, without intervening, and say all your beautiful words."

"Beautiful words for a beautiful lady," Hubert agreed, and with one final kiss, he rose off of her and sat by her on the bed. "Anything you need from the nightstand, Bernie? Would you like to be filled while you do this?" She could see him reaching toward her, see his hands twitching when he remembered not to move, but he got back with the program. She changed techniques and arched her back as she moaned, knowing Hubert's first instinct would be to help her.

"You're so-- good for me," she told him. "So sweet and soft and obedient. You do just what I tell you." She tried that same technique again and moaned again, but it seemed more effective when she spaced it out.

"How could I ever refuse to be considerate for my sweet Bernie-bear?" Hubert countered. "Oh, that looks spectacular, Bernie. If you could only see the  _ faces _ you make--"

"Don't touch yourself," she ordered. "I want to be the only person who touches you today. Do that for me?"

"Anything for you, sweet," Hubert agreed, and put his hands on his thighs, where she could see them. "After all, how could I ever say no to such a gloriously beautiful woman?"

Bernie smiled. She was getting better and better at receiving comments. "Say more in your handsome voice," she encouraged.

"You don't know what it does to me," Hubert told her, sounding almost bashful. "Seeing you like this. The urge I have to step in and relieve your tired fingers. I will have to offer to rub your hands when this is over. And a bath -- I can see how flushed and sweaty you are from here, my sweet, and you have no idea how much good a bath did me after my own experience."

She didn't pay the most attention to what he said, but she loved his deep voice and she liked the way his whole body twitched toward her whenever she moaned particularly loudly. She liked the way his speech stuttered, too, in those moments.

He surged toward her when she came, but backed off when she said, "Oh! Oh, there's another one!" That was her husband: polite, considerate, and and he wouldn't so much as touch her hand without her consent.

He watched her come four times in a row, a number she would never have thought possible for her. The third time, he made a strangled sort of noise and, while Bernie hadn't been listening for a while, she could tell he was starting to babble. The fourth time, he made an even more strangled noise and said, "Now?" and Bernadetta didn't want to play that game anymore.

"Yes, come over here," she said, and immediately, his body covered hers, cool and refreshing on her hot skin. His body weighed hers down like a thick blanket and his mouth was divine on hers, warm and wet and clumsy with desire. He kissed her like he needed her, when she was the one who'd taken the aphrodisiac and, therefore,  _ she _ was the one who needed  _ him. _ But it certainly didn't hurt her ego to be wanted so desperately, and by someone who could have her any day of the week, too!

They flopped together in a way that she'd never figured out how to describe eloquently, rutting their hips against each other. The Amorous was really taking effect, and she couldn't get enough of the smell of Hubert, the feel of him, the soft, throaty noises he made as they kissed. He held her as he often did when they kissed, with one hand behind her head and the other around her back, but her body demanded more, so  _ much _ more.

She broke off the kiss. It was easy even though she was below him because Hubert was always responsive to her. "Touch me more," she told him, smoothing her hands in long circles up and down his back. "I want you everywhere on me." He kissed her again, pushing her head farther down against the pillow, and his hands came up the sides of her ribcage, massaging the sides of her breasts but not quite reaching her nipples. As his hands continued over other parts of her, she understood: he was teasing her.

She let him tease, let his hands travel all over her, the warm pressure of them, the titillating reaction of her oversensitive skin, burning and soothing at once. When he finally relented and smoothed his thumbs over her nipples, she came almost at once and wrapped her legs desperately around her hips.

"Tell me you need me," Hubert said, his voice low but still audible over her moans. "Tell me there's nobody else you want more."

"No one," Bernie said immediately. "Aooooh, there could never be anyone better, Hubert, never met anyone as sweet and understanding and -- oh, do that more -- understanding and-- sweet and-- Oh, no, don't stop, you tease! I need you so bad!" He laughed quietly and kissed her cheek and she was the one making unflattering, indescribable noises now. She understood why he had acted like he did when he'd gotten a face full of the stuff; she'd never felt physical desire like a need, like hunger or thirst, but it felt that way now. There were no documented cases of people dying to the flower, aside from a few stray hikers who had fallen to dehydration or exposure in the wilderness from carelessness due to the flower's effects, but it was like an illness that was only soothed by pressing herself against him, rutting on him, kissing his soft mouth. She felt feverish and sensitive now, but she felt worse every time they slowed. Every inch of skin that wasn't touching him felt like it was on fire.

He relented to all of her requests. He let her smell the crook of his neck, let her rub herself all over him, not only her crotch, but all of her. Let her kiss him until both their lips were red and getting chapped. His voice was always gentle, even soothing when she started to feel overwhelmed. He reminded her that he'd been through it and he would never leave her alone like that.

It was late afternoon, at least two hours after they'd started, when Bernadetta lay still on Hubert's chest and said, "It's fading. The pollen."

"Mmm," Hubert responded, surely feeling very relaxed after his third orgasm of the day. He petted her hair and said, "Tell me when you're alright to stop. Are you still too warm?"

"I'm pretty thirsty," Bernie admitted. "And I think I'll eat well at dinner. I don't feel too hot, but I'm so covered in goop…" All the substances that went into sex were on her body in varying quantities. And Hubert's body. They should bathe. First, Hubert should kiss her neck again. "It isn't over, but it might be if we spend a few more minutes making out." She traced a little circle over his sparse chest hair with her fingertip. "I think we could enjoy doing this together next time. It was so intense, but I loved the whole thing. I'm just worried I tired you out too much…"

"I fought in a war, Bernie-bear," Hubert reminded her. She could hear him smiling. "It would take more than half an afternoon to tire me out. You're the one who's been in the thick of it." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll draw you a nice bath when it fades."

Bernie hummed in a way she hoped he'd interpret as assent, then shifted to position herself properly so they could kiss some more. This time, she could feel Hubert smiling.

"What has you so amused?" she asked when she pulled away. There was no way to really kiss like that.

"Just thinking about this gift you gave me," Hubert told her. "A lovely afternoon, my beautiful wife wanting me so terribly badly, and of course, this evening you will be under my personal care." He stroked her hair out of her face. "I imagine you're terribly exhausted. It was so draining when I took it," he told her, frowning very handsomely to make his fretting look more convincing.

"So exhausted," Bernie agreed. "I might not even go down to dinner." How did he like that? Was it too much? She would go if that actually made him worry--

"Whatever you need, sweet," Hubert told her. He kissed her. He still hadn't seemed to remember that kissing and smiling went badly together.

"Hey, um. How would a quick nap be, before dinner?" Bernie asked. The sheets would only get worse, but they were already a lost cause. "I don't want to take a bath. I just want to lie with you a little longer."

Hubert seemed to consider it. She knew he must be ready for one, so soon after coming. At last, he smirked and said, "I'm certain there's a very good argument against it that I'll think of when we wake up," and kissed her jaw.

For sleep, Bernie slid down to Hubert's side. She nestled herself in the crook of his arm, just her head resting on his chest like a living pillow. His long arm encircled her, protective and sweet. He somehow managed to pull up the sheet and a light blanket without making her sit up. She thought it was likely there was magic involved.

They settled in together. Hubert fell asleep first, his breathing deep and even and very slow. When they woke, he would get her a glass of water, bathe her, walk her down to dinner as if she needed help. He would be so gentle and attentive to her. For now, all Bernadetta could think of was how warm her husband's fretting made her feel. How cared for. How loved.

She drifted off to sleep on the afternoon of their anniversary, encircled by Hubert's protective arm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :)


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